They had their enemies, they had their friends, and one of the earliest things Joe learned was the ability to tell the difference. Boys could start off hostile but after a good scrap to clear the air, could become your closest buddy. Similarly someone you had grown to like and trust could betray or disappoint you. He had little to do with the girls. The only female he had any time for was his sister; the others got on his nerves a bit. They'd neither fight nor play – or at least not at any game he wanted to play. They were the source of absolute mystification to him. How they could stay inside or gossip, giggle and croon over each other's dolls...especially when the sun was shining and the breeze came down off the mountains, with the hint of pine and cactus. Scamp shared his incomprehension, although with her there was the added sense of disgust.

"They are pathetic!" she would exclaim. "Why don't they do anything fun?"

"I have no idea. I think they're all loco."

"You are absolutely right, Little Joe."

In the fall of 1853 there was a new addition to the class. Cassie Sullivan was only five and as quiet as a church mouse. The first thing they noticed was her darkness. Her hair was coal-black and her skin swarthy. She was obviously poor, her clothes were almost in rags and she was none too clean. It soon became clear that she was not going to be very popular. Joe noticed the child trying to make friends with the older girls, toddling over with a filthy, worn doll and sitting in front of them.

"Can you smell something?" Annette Deacon said, looking up and sniffing loudly.

Her friends tittered.

"I've got my doll," Cassie said. "Her name's Francesca."

Annette laughed scornfully through her nose. "What sorta name is that? Sounds like a Mex name to me."

Cassie was hurt. "It was my Mama's name."

"Oh, your Mama? Was she a Mex, too?"

"She's dead," she whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"You named your doll after your dead Ma?"

"Who calls their Ma 'Mama'?" Suzie Planchard sniggered. "You a baby or something?"

"I'm not a baby!" And now Cassie was sobbing.

"Is that the best doll you've got?!"

Joe was standing a short way away, waiting by the school steps for his sister. He heard the girls' nastiness and his soft Cartwright heart was wounded. As usual, anger was his reaction to pain. He strode over to them and put his arms around the girl.

"Careful, Little Joe, you might catch something," Celia Stoughton giggled.

"If you were a boy the only thing you'd catch is my fist!"

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Why are you so cruel? All she wanted to do is make friends with you. And you sit there, spraying your poison!"

Annette stood up, a scowl darkening her pretty face. Cassie was wailing and he picked her up, trying to calm her.

"Now, Little Joe - "

"You're a bully! And all these hags...you're like a coven of witches!"

"How dare you?"

"I dare because it's true! Sitting here, tittering over your stupid dolls. Think you're so big, don't you? So popular. But you're nothing but a bunch of toxic old crones!"

Annette gasped and marched up to him. "I'm gonna tell Miss Jones you said that!"

"Go ahead. And I shall tell her what you said!"

"Oh, let him go, Nan," said one of the girls. "If he wants to make a fool of himself over a filthy little half-Mex brat..."

Joe saw red. Despite having Cassie in his arms, he clenched his fists and decided to walk away before he lost his temper. He wished Scamp were with him because she would have decked them where he could not.

"Shh, shh, little girl," he crooned as Cassie wept into his shoulder. "Now they're just horrid girls. Don't you have anything to do with them. Hear?"

He was so gentle she encircled his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

"Hey, steady on!" he laughed with embarrassment.

"You're nice, Little Joe."

"Well, there are lotsa nice people here, honey."

He sat down on the other side of the steps and placed the girl beside him. She tentatively held up her doll. "They were horrible to Francesca."

"Well, they're nasty people, Cass." He took the little poppet and tried not to wrinkle his nose. It was so filthy it looked as if it had been dragged in the dirt. Holding his breath, he added, "Shall I give Francesca a kiss, make it better?"

"Will you?"

"Sure!" He forced himself to smile and not gag as he put his face into the material. "Mwa, mwa, mwa. There you are. All better." He handed it back to her. He had already worked out it was probably the only toy she had.

"Hey there, Little Joe!"

"Hi, Scamp. Old Jonesy had you at it, did she?"

"Don't be rude. I like helping her."

"If I didn't know you better I'd call you a teacher's pet."

"Do you value your teeth, Joe?" He laughed. "And you've got little Cass with you, I see?"

"My name's Cassandra," she said, offering the older girl her doll in turn.

"Yes, but Cassandra's long. I like Cass. And who's this?"

"Francesca."

"That's a nice name."

"It was my Mama's name."

"Your Ma's called Francesca?"

"She's dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Cass. Our Ma died too, when we were about your age. It sucks."

"I've just had words with that lot over there," Joe said, gesturing to the girls who were still sitting on the other side of the steps. "I had to walk away. I nearly lost my temper."

"Why?"

Not wanting to upset the girl again he drew Scamp to one side and told her what they had said.

"I'll flatten them!"

"No, don't, Scamp. It's not worth it."

"How dare they?"

She tried to pull away but he tightened his grip. "Really, Sis, it's not worth it. You'll get punished."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do. And it's not as if you'll change their ways, is it? They're just trash."

"They shouldn't get away with it."

"I agree." He drew her even further aside and lowered his voice. "Look at her. Poor little mite. She looks so thin."

"Do you have any of your lunch left?"

"Dunno. Do you?"

They both checked and Scamp found a half eaten sandwich.

"Here, Cass," she said, offering it to her. "I really, really stuffed myself earlier and found I had this left. My Pa gets ever so cross if I don't eat all my lunch, so I was wondering if you'd be really kind and finish it for me?"

Cass grabbed it and stuffed it into her mouth. "Hey, easy," Joe said gently. "Go easy, there. And you always say thank you when someone gives you something, Cassie."

"Thank you!" She wolfed it in a few mouthfuls and looked up, her eyes eager and pleading. She hesitated. "Is there any more?"

Scamp's heart broke. "I'm afraid there isn't, honey."

"I bet those girls have got stuff left."

"I bet. But they wouldn't give her any. They'd rather grind it in the dirt than give it to her."

They started to walk to their horses. Cassie padded behind them.

"Wanna ride?"

"L'il Joe!"

"OK, Cass. I think you've got a little girlfriend there, Joe!"

"Is your Pa coming to get you?"

"I don't know."

She looked lost and frightened.

"Where do you live, Cass?"

"In Papa's wagon."

"In a wagon?"

"Where is it, Cass?"

A sob. "I don't know."

"Can you remember which way you came this morning?"

"No. Papa was real angry. He didn't want me to come. But this gen'leman and lady came yesterday and told him I had to come. He told them to go away and got real angry. Then the gen'leman came back with another man. He had a gun and looked real impor'ent. He had a funny name. Caff...Caff...somethin'."

"Coffee?"

"Think so."

"That's the sheriff, honey."

"What's a sheriff?"

Joe glanced at Scamp who hid a smile. "He's a real important man. He makes sure people do as they're told."

"Like Papa?"

"Yes, like Papa."

"So how did you get here this morning, Cass?" Scamp asked.

"The lady came. Miss Jones."

"That's nice of her," Joe said to Scamp. "It's right out of her way."

"Well, I keep telling you, she is nice, Little Joe. I just wish you'd see it sometimes."

They watched Miss Jones come out of the schoolhouse, fiddling with her keys. She came over to them, a quizzical smile on her face.

"You children still here? Scamp, Little Joe, why haven't you gone home? Your father will be worried about you."

"It's Cass, ma'am. No-one seems to have come for her. We couldn't really leave her."

"Oh, that man! I told him...Thank you, twins. Go along now. I'll look after Cassandra."

Later they told their father what had happened.

"She's so thin, Pa."

"And those girls, they were vile."

"You handled it right, Joe. You told them what you thought and took Cassandra away."

"Why are people so cruel, Pa?" Joe asked.

"Some children are like that, Joe. Some adults are like it."

"All she wanted was to be friends with them. To show them her doll. Pa, I felt so sorry for her. All she had was this little filthy doll. She's got holes in her clothes and she wolfed down the sandwich we gave her as if she hadn't eaten for an age. And all the while, that spoilt brat, Annette Deacon, was vicious."

"She'll get her comeuppance one day, Joe."

"Can't come quick enough for me."

"Just offer her friendship. I know you'll do that. You're good kids."

Much to Scamp's amusement, the little girl latched onto Joe, following him around. Sometimes, she would gaze at him adoringly, Francesca in her arms, her thumb in her mouth.

"She's getting thinner and thinner," he told Scamp. "I give her food but it never seems to be enough."

"What's her father playing at? She's even more dirty. Does he never bathe her?"

One day she was not there.

"Where is she, Miss Jones? Do you know?"

"That's what I'd like to know, Joseph. Usually a parent would let me know if a child was sick, although with that one - " She stopped herself, knowing she should not be discussing a student's private situation with another child.

"What is it with Cass's father, ma'am? He...well, he doesn't seem to look after her very well."

"Mr Sullivan is not an easy man, Little Joe. I think I may say that to you. It's pretty much common knowledge now and you'll probably find out soon enough yourself. But I want your word that you will not discuss what I have told you with any other pupil. Understand?"

Joe flushed with indignation and straightened up. "Of course I won't, ma'am!"

"I know you won't."

"I can tell Scamp? And Pa? You see, they're concerned for her."

"Yes, so am I. Yes, you may tell them, Joe...I must thank you for what you've done. You've been very good to her."

"She's my friend, ma'am. You don't have to thank me."

"You're a good boy." He blushed again, even deeper. "Poor little thing. She's beginning to smell."

"Where does she live, ma'am?"

She gave him a rather odd look. "Anderson's Meadow. Near the brook. Mr Sullivan has a wagon there."

When she did not come the following day Little Joe made a decision. "I'm going out there. You coming?"

"When?"

"After school."

"We'll be late home."

"I'll explain to Pa. You coming?"

"Yes. I'm worried about her, too."